Early this morning at Fernandito's I heard that the O. J. Simpson jury had returned a verdict which would be read this evening at 1700. I haven't heard much about the trial (even not while in the USA), but this seems to be worthwhile. I make a note to watch the broadcast on CNN International later this evening. I look up at the sky.

It's horribly overcast; the faces of the expatriates are sad and gloomy. It's still quite comfortable and warm, but the psychological effect of sun deprivation is felt. The major topic of conversation at the Round Table is the overwhelming presence of police on the island all of a sudden. David Buschman (shown at left) noticed them driving up the camino past his house; he lives at the far end of the road and passers-by are rare. Anand lives past David; he was stopped and questioned. Someone tells a story about a group of party-goers who were stopped and had their small amounts of personal recreational medication confiscated. (The tension between the Spanish government trying to stop large drug shipments and the tolerance of people smoking hashish openly is a strange one. In Germany, I'm told by one expatriate, up to 30 grams of hashish is tolerated for "personal use", with an inexpensive ticket the worst penalty.)

We drive home, and Daniel begins dinner. Rather than having Djamal (at right) be underfoot, I take him in my arms for a long walk into the setting sun. It's strange weather; fog pours over the top of the peak across the valley but the sky over our head is crystal clear and full of stars. "Da da!" shouts Djamal, as he points to the rising moon. Amik the dog and Smoothie the cat follow us on the trek. From time to time Amik trees Smoothie, at other times Smoothie chases Amik away. At Daniel's dinner call we walk the kilometer back and enjoy what he calls "boat food" - a combination of whatever he found in the refridgerator spiced and cooked so that it pacifies the crew.

Sometime last week I read Dashiell Hammett's CITE>Woman In the Dark; the first work of his I'd read. Frankly, I don't get it. Either this isn't a representative work or his style doesn't thrill me. Here's a typical passage:

His sallow face was phlegmatic. He was laconic. "Be seeing you," he said, and pushed up the window. His foot was over the sill by the time the window was completely raised. His other foot followed the first immediately, and, turning un his chest, he lowered himself, grinning cheerfully at Luise Fischer for an instant before he dropped out of sight.

She ran to the window and looked down. He was rising from among the weeds in the unkempt back yard. His head turned swiftly from right to left. Moving with a swiftness that seemed mere unhesitancy, he went to the left-hand fence, up it, and over into the next-door yard.

Doesn't do much for me.

I guess that's a good segue into the O. J. verdict. Like millions of people around the world (according to the newspapers on subsequent days), I planted myself in front of the television to watch CNN International's hour-long pre-verdict show, the live court broadcast, and the hour-long follow-up show. Whatever your thoughts on the verdict, the amount of time the jury deliberated, the race card, or what's going to happen to the actors who have been giving us the "Dancing Itos" on the Late Show with Jay Leno, I think you'll agree with me that it makes for a good circus show.